Dunn flew back to Los Angeles again.
After getting his hands on the Gulfstream V jet, he'd originally planned to take a trip to the Unsinkable film crew. On one hand, he wanted to nudge James Cameron to speed up the shooting schedule; on the other, he was looking forward to enjoying some quality time with both Charlize Theron and Liv Tyler.
Unfortunately, he was just too busy to make it happen.
Back in Hollywood, Dunn's first stop was checking in on Legendary Pictures' business, especially the "portfolio investment" project they'd kicked off with Warner Bros.
Thankfully, everything was going smoothly.
Warner had greenlit a new film project—the first-ever movie funded through portfolio investment: Training Day. It was a $50 million crime action flick starring Denzel Washington and Ethan Hawke.
It was a guy-centric movie, so Penelope Cruz wasn't involved. Instead, she'd landed a role in another Warner project that was about to get off the ground—a drama called Hearts in Atlantis, led by Oscar-winner Anthony Hopkins, where she'd play the female lead.
Penelope had been buzzing with excitement for days about this. Acting alongside Mr. Hopkins felt like a dream come true.
Dunn, though, wasn't as impressed.
Hearts in Atlantis? Never heard of it. Probably a flop!
Anthony Hopkins starring in it didn't mean much to him. It seemed like Penelope's next lead role would need some personal intervention from Dunn—he'd have to talk to Warner himself to set her up with something better. Their production department didn't exactly inspire confidence.
Next, Dunn reached out to GA Entertainment for an update. To his surprise, Isaac Larian responded with almost comical humility, acting like Dunn's loyal sidekick. He even showed up in person at Dunn Films to give a full rundown.
On the issue of the Bezz doll copyright, Isaac had a simple, permanent fix: throw money at it! GA would pay to sign a buyout agreement for the Bezz dolls. After all, the designer, Bryant, had already left Mattel and jumped ship to GA. Given Mattel's shortsighted execs and their obsession with quick cash, securing the buyout wouldn't be a problem.
Dunn was pleased with Isaac's efficiency. He took a good look at the Bezz doll samples Isaac brought along, and finally, they got to the last topic—financing.
Isaac showed maximum sincerity again, valuing GA Entertainment at $20 million—the same price he'd paid to buy out his brother's shares a few months back. Dunn didn't hesitate. Through Dunn Capital, he invested $10 million for a 49% stake in the company.
These days, Dunn carried himself like a big-shot boss. His every word was final, and the details were left to his team to handle.
By the afternoon, after wrapping up all that, Dunn finally had time to meet with David Heyman.
David ran a small production company in the UK, but thanks to his Hollywood connections, he had some serious clout in the British film scene. The Narnia project had practically made the entire UK industry green with envy.
Still, Dunn knew The Chronicles of Narnia was destined to be a series that started strong but fizzled out fast. Only the first film had real profit potential.
Dunn had high hopes for David and wasn't about to let him sink all his energy into Narnia. Now that the movie had wrapped filming and moved into post-production—with Warner's production team overseeing it—David could step away.
"David, how're you holding up? Still got some energy left?" Dunn cut straight to the chase.
David knew Dunn had flown back from shooting in Boston just to see him, so it had to be something big. "Of course!" he said eagerly. "New Zealand's got a great vibe—really rejuvenating."
Dunn grinned. "Good to hear. The Harry Potter series has finally taken off across the U.S., and I hear it's been translated and published in a bunch of European countries too. Things are looking up."
David's eyes lit up. "Dunn, are you saying… you're ready to greenlight Harry Potter?"
"Exactly!" Dunn didn't hold back. "David, we go way back. You helped a ton when we secured the Harry Potter rights, and now I'm gonna need you again."
"No trouble at all—none!" David couldn't hide his excitement.
Harry Potter was already a household name in the U.S., and in the UK, it was even bigger. The movies hadn't even started, and it was already a cultural phenomenon. Kids in schools were obsessed—practically everyone had a set of the books. Rumor had it even Prime Minister Blair was a fan.
Having produced Narnia, if David could add Harry Potter to his resume, he'd be an absolute titan in the UK film world.
Dunn nodded. "Harry Potter has a ton of characters, and at the start, they're all kids. Casting's gonna be a huge challenge."
David agreed completely. "Yeah, especially since this series could run seven films. If it goes well, these kid actors will be filming for at least a decade!"
"Exactly. That's why we've got to be thorough and careful with casting—think it through from every angle. Family stuff matters too. We don't want to deal with weird parents—that's just a headache waiting to happen," Dunn said, frowning.
"I get it," David replied. "Luckily, we've got experience from the big casting calls for Narnia. But Harry Potter has more characters and way more complexity. I think… we should spend at least six months locking down a solid group of young actors. Then do about three months of training and observation to make sure they're really up for it before signing contracts. We can shoot next summer during their break."
"Sounds like a solid plan. I'll take the top producer credit, but I'm swamped, so you'll need to handle the casting and filming details. Keep everything on track."
"Got it… Oh, what about the director? Their style's gonna shape the casting big time."
Dunn smiled. "Don't worry, I've already talked to the production team. It's Chris Columbus!"
"Chris Columbus? The Home Alone guy?"
"Yup, that's him!"
"An American director…"
Dunn's face darkened. "David, we're making a commercial blockbuster here. It's all about the market! Don't hit me with that J.K. Rowling purist stuff."
David chuckled awkwardly. "That's not what I meant…"
Dunn waved him off. "One more thing—contracts. We're doing eight Harry Potter films. Eight, no question! So don't hold back on this. Be tough up front, lock it down. We can't let them come back later with crazy demands if the movies blow up."
That was a lesson learned the hard way.
In his past life, when Warner made Harry Potter, the books were already a hit thanks to early hype. Still, adapting them into films was a gamble. Following Hollywood's usual playbook, Warner signed the kid actors to three-film deals.
Then the movies exploded.
When those three-film contracts ran out, the actors demanded insane paychecks—some even wanted a cut of the box office!
Back in the '90s, profit-sharing with actors was a thing. But with portfolio investments easing the financial strain on studios, giving up future box office cuts to offset high salaries had become rare.
Those young actors, though, knew Harry Potter was too big to recast. They soft-blackmailed Warner. After failed negotiations, Warner caved, handing out fat contracts with profit-sharing.
Harry Potter 4 went ahead, raking in global sales. That's when Hollywood's savvy kicked in.
Warner, outsmarted by a bunch of kids? Please.
After the film wrapped, some internal "adjustments" showed that a movie with nearly $100 million in ticket sales somehow lost $20 million. No profits, no payouts!
The young actors had to eat the loss and learned their lesson. For the next few films, they dropped the profit-sharing demands.
But it left Warner—and Hollywood—with a bad rep. Dunn wasn't about to let that mess happen again. Long-term contracts would lock everyone in tight.
Just like with "Spider-Man" James Franco.
Try playing games with me? Good luck!
…
"Wow! Dunn, you're here!" Taylor Swift bounded over in a yellow dress, her golden hair neatly braided into two little pigtails. She looked like a doll—cute and perfect.
Andrea Swift frowned the second she heard it. "Taylor, it's Uncle Dunn!"
Little Taylor stuck out her tongue in a big goofy face.
Dunn just laughed. He didn't mind at all. Reaching into his trench coat pocket, he pulled out a doll and handed it over. "A gift for you."
"A Barbie?" Taylor scrunched her nose and waved a tiny fist. "No way! I'm too old for that. I'm all about feminism now!"
Andrea chuckled. "Ever since she heard your speech on women's rights, she tossed out all her Barbies and Disney princesses. Says she's gonna be an independent, modern woman."
"That's a great goal!" Dunn said with a grin. "But… take another look. Is this really a Barbie?"
"Huh?"
Taylor's eyes widened as she stared at the fashion doll in Dunn's hand. "Oh! It's not! Wow, it's so cool! I want it! I want it! Gimme, gimme, please, Dunn, I want it!"
She didn't mean anything by it, but Andrea's face turned red. She couldn't scold her or explain it away—just stood there, mortified.
The doll in Dunn's hand was a Bezz doll sample from Isaac Larian. He dodged Taylor's playful chase around the room, laughing. It was fun—until her words started sinking in.
Wait… that could be taken the wrong way!
Dunn coughed awkwardly. "Alright, alright, here you go!"
He tossed it lightly, and—oops—it landed right in the gap behind the couch.
Taylor pouted, grumbling, "Dunn, you're so mean! You got it stuck!"
"It wasn't on purpose," Dunn said, throwing up his hands.
Taylor fished out the Bezz doll, now dusted with grime from the crevice. "Ugh, you got it all dirty!"
"Just wash it."
"You wash it for me!"
"Fine."
"Never mind, let's do it together."
…
Andrea Swift listened to their back-and-forth, her expression growing weirder by the second. Her legs felt like jelly.
What a mess!